It started in band camp
by arnhem softfire
Summary: basically the story of a young girl, just starting marching band. and all of the things going on in her life. inside band, and out. read and review
1. Chapter 1

**HELLO!**

**ya. this is my new story. bout real life events. it gets updated as soon as something new and exciting happens in life.**

**and tis about band! YAY.**

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I woke with a start on that Monday morning, my chemical romance blasting through my alarm clock. I glared at the annoyance, vaguely wishing that it would rot in hell. I shut the alarm off, and sat up.

'It's a sin to have to wake up so early...in August to boot.' I thought grumpily, throwing the covers off of me. I contemplated faking sick, or just pretending to not hear the alarm. But then I stood up, grumbling. I knew I couldnt just sit in bed and complain. I had to go to band camp.

Thats right. Band camp. I know what your thinking. Your thinking a certain line, from a certain movie, like the rest of the world does when band camp is mentioned. Take this time to laugh, and mock. Then get over it. Moving on...

It was the first day. I wasnt even there yet, and I regretted it. It was 8 am, and I had to go to some highschool, to play music for 8 hours, for two weeks out of my summer. What a tragic waste of time.

Never the less, I pulled on a pair of pants, and a t shirt, stifling a yawn, and I walked down the stairs, falling down onto the couch. Compared to waking up at noon every day for the past two months, this was waaaay too early.

I picked up the glass of orange juice that was set out for me, sipping it absentmindedly. I had had a good dream. Of love, or happiness or something sappy like that. I remembered being content. But I couldnt quite grasp what it was that the dream was about. I shrugged, focusing on the task at hand.

I searched around for my clarinet, finding the case sitting next to the shoe rack in the hallway. I placed it on the table. Then I picked up my old school bag, throwing my lunch box, a water bottle, sun screen, and a sweatshirt inside. I looked up at the clock. It said 8:45. Crap. We were gunna be late.

"Mom! Hurry up please! Were running late!" I shouted up the stairs.

"Whose fault is that?" my mother replied agitatedly back.

"Yours! Im all ready, and waiting."

No reply.

I won.

She came down the stairs, and gave me a look. The kinda look that plainly said "oh you just don't understand anything do you?" and then sat down on the rocking chair. tying her shoes. Taking her sweet time.

I tapped my foot in annoyance. "Any day now mother."

She made an angry noise in the back of her throat, and sat up, grabbing her purse. She started searching around for the keys.

I rolled my eyes, and pointed to the hook on the wall, where she put her keys every day of her life. You'd think shed remember at least once in a while.

Finally we were out the door, and on our way to band camp. The ride was silent, except for the soft sounds of the radio. The beatles started playing, I hummed tiredly.

That feeling of nervousness and dread overcame me as we pulled into the drive of my older brothers highschool, South. I myself was about to enter North, as a freshman. The crappier school. 'Oh well, my loss' I thought dully as my mom drove up to the side entrance, and slowed the car to a stop.

"Have a good day, honey, ill pick you up at 5." she said in that annoyingly sweet voice she uses when shes pretending she was never in fact mad at all.

"Yea... see you then mom." I mumbled, grabbing my bag and clarinet, and walking into the building.

There were a bunch kids in my grade I hadnt seen since the end of the 8th grade. I rushed over to a few.

"Hey guys, How's it going?" I asked joyfully.

"Hey, Katie, its going good." my friend Jess replied. Jess was a tall girl with long brown hair, from my middle school. She wasnt one of my best friends, but we were pretty close all the same. She had her clarinet all set up, and was attatching her flip folder to her clarinet.

'Better get ready' I thought, watching all the other kids from my school getting prepaired. I found my seat and started putting the pieces of my clarinet together.

"AUDREY! I FOUND A KAT!" I heard a voice shout from the door. I looked up, to see two of my best friends rushing over to me, smiling.

"Audrey! anna! Its so good to see you guys!" I said, hugging them both. I realized how long it had actually been since I had seen them. At least a month. 'Jeez...way to have a life, Kate' my mind scolded. I told it to shut up. "How psyched are you guys to be here right now?" I said with mock enthusiasm. Audrey moaned.

"Ugghhhh Katttiiiiiiee I don't wanna bee herreeee.." she whimpered, stamping her foot dejectedly.

"Want some cheese with that whine?" I asked her.

"Real original, Kat." anna laughed. I shrugged, smiling. It was good to see them again.

A whistle was blown, and we all went to find the seats where our names were placed.

We all set up our instruments, playing a quick scale, tuning, getting reaquainted with the sounds we hadnt heard since 8th grade band. Shortly after, the whistle sounded again.

An older girl with short blonde hair and a yellow shirt bearing the word "officer" on the front, stood on a stool and cupped her hands over her mouth "everyone, were going out onto the field, so put on your sunscreen now." She shouted, and hopped down from the stool.

I walked with anna and audrey out onto the field, and we were all put into rows and columns, creating a "block formation". Once there we set down our instruments, and the officers instructed us to do stretches.

Shortly afterwards, Mr. Porter came out onto the field. He was the band director. Tapping the Mic on his headset, he spoke.

"Welcome, freshman class, to band camp." he said smiling. He briefly explained what it was that we would be doing this year in band. We'd have a marching season, and a concert season. Marching lasted from the beginning of the school year to thanksgiving, then started back up in the spring. I glanced at anna, wondering if she was dreading this year just as much as I was.

"Now were gonna practice the basics of marching. First of all, you always start off on your left foot. Every time there's a set change in the music, you must step off from your right, all the odd beats must be marched with the left, evens with the right..."

At this point I started to space out. Mr. Porter, though he was a nice guy, had a very dull voice. One that could really lull someone into a sense of boredom.

"So, were going to do a basic 8 step move, 8 foward, and stop. Look at where you are on the field, you should be either splitting the yard line or on it. After the move, you should be splitting or on the next. Count the beats out loud. Lets try this once." he clapped a beat with his hands "one, two, one two ready go"

We all started marching, (the majority of us) stepping first with the left foot, I stumbled a bit, and most of us ended up a few steps ahead or short of our destination. But this didn't phase mr. Porter. He told us to start over again, and drilled us through the 8 step until we got the hang of it.

Then he said "now lets try 8 foward,8 back and see where we end up." he clapped the same beat, shouted the same words, and we all marched foward. It was only when we had to march backwards that the trouble started.

The girl in front of me was taking giant steps backwards, so I had to pick up the pace or get stepped on. That lead me to step on Jess' foot. She stumbled, and I turned to apologize, only to see her scrambling up off of the ground, red in the face.

anna and I broke out into laughter, jess joining in. I reached down to help her and apologized repeatedly. We then set up the block formation again and practiced marching, from the 8 forward and back, to 16 forward and back, to the figure 8, which was marching up 8 ,left 8, back 8, right 8, up 8, right 8, back 8, and then left 8. We practiced all of these moves, up untill 12:30, and then we were given an hour lunch break.

I ran off the field, laughing as I heard jenn shout "KAT IM GONNA KILL YOU!" chasing after me. It was at that moment, laughing with my friends that I decided that band wouldnt be so bad after all.

**k, first chapter. tell me what you think, and ill update soon! tah!**

**Arnhem.**


	2. boy troubles

**hurrs the second chapter. heres where the story gets going. it might b lame in the beginning, but it'll get better. dont worry :D**

A few days later you could find me at the same field, same week, same situation. Except this time the upperclassmen were with us marching, and we were currently learning our sets for the field show. The upperclassmen had been given books that show the sets we were to be put at, and quite frankly I had no idea how to read them. I just went where my section leader told me to go.

We were standing in the middle of the schools football field, getting cooked alive from the hot August sun. and I had once again forgot to bring sun screen. I had decided an hour ago that it was physically too hot to take in a word anyone said to me, but I was still trying. If I didn't get the sets right, and got left behind, I was screwed.

So when the monotone sound of Mr. Porters voice died out, and my fellow band members started to gather around those of us with books, I shook myself out of my day dream and walked over to my section leader, Molly.

Molly was a nice girl, yet she was very strict when it came to band. Many people called her annoying. I called her dedicated. I honestly didn't have a problem with her.

"So molly, where am I going this time?" I asked her tiredly.

"Lets see...Katie...you are splitting the 40 and the 45, four away from the hash." she told me. I nodded, and walked over to the hash mark on the field, in between the 40 and the 45, counted 4 paces, and placed my chip down. I looked over to molly, and she gave me a thumbs up. I sighed in relief. Finally I was taking in this band lingo. I had to learn quickly what splitting the yard lines meant and what exactly the hash mark was.

'Maybe next year ill actually be able to read the book myself' I thought tiredly, sitting on the dried up grass that was once a very handsome football field. I picked up a piece of grass and tiredly started peeling the edges.

The whistle was blown, and I stood up. I glanced at my watch, hoping against hope it was five minutes before our lunch break. It read 10:30. I sighed. Today was gonna be a long one.

7 hours later, I arrived home, aching all over, and walking on my tiptoes, because every time I set my heels on the floor it felt like someone was bashing them in with a hammer. I swore to myself that id never wear converses to band again, no matter how much I loved them.

I sat down on the couch tiredly, untying my shoes, wincing as I pulled them off. I walked up the stairs and into my bathroom, painfully trying to peel off my sweaty clothing without doing damage to my outrageously burnt skin. 'Damn my family for being Irish.' I thought mockingly.

Throwing the clothes on the floor, I stepped into the shower, turning on the water, and wincing as the luke warm water felt as if it was at boiling point when it hit my burnt skin. I turned it down to cold, and shivered. The worst part about sun burns is that you cant have a proper shower until they're gone. I tried to make the best of it, fiddling around with the shower valve to attempt to get a perfect temperature. I gave up and proceeded with my annoyingly cold shower quickly.

10 minutes later, I stepped out of the bathroom, shaking and cursing, and yet again wondering what I got myself into. I dried up quickly, putting on pj bottoms and a tank top, and limped downstairs.

My mom looked up from reading her book at me pitifully, and said "you know, katie, you can quit anytime if its too much for you."

My body screamed "DO IT!"... but something kept me from asking my mom to let me. I couldnt quite figure it out, but I just shook my head and told my mom I'd like to go on with it. She nodded, and gave me one of those "oh im so proud of you" looks. I smiled tiredly. My mom could be alright sometimes. She glanced back down at her reading, and I picked up a brush from the counter, pulling it through the mess of wet curls I called my hair.

"Oh and Jake called." mom said casually.

"Did he?" I asked, smiling. Jake was my boyfriend at the time.

"Mhmm. I told him you'd call him back."

"Ok." I said, putting down the brush, and picking up the phone. I dialed his number, and waited as the phone rang.

"Hello?" I heard Jake say.

"Hi Jake." I said tiredly.

"Hey Katie, whats up?"

"Ah nothing. Exhausted."

"From what, band?" he asked.

"Mhmm." I replied, rubbing my temple with my fingers. I could feel a headache coming on. I squeezed my eyes shut.

"Aw Katie is it really _that_ bad?" he asked me.

"...that bad? Are you kidding me? Its terrible! Much worse than you'd expect." I said indignantly.

"How can it be bad? All you do is stand and march."

"Yea, stand and march. All day. No shade. No sun block. A break every other hour. I almost passed out the other day ya know. Its not all that fun."

"Ok ok, fine." he mumbled.

Silence.

"Maaan you HAVE TO come over some time soon. I havent seen you in the longest time!" he said finally.

I sighed. "Jake, its not my fault, I've been busy."

"I didn't _say_ it was your fault."

"Sorry, im very tired right now."

"Its ok I guess."

'I guess?' I thought, but chose to keep it quiet. I didn't feel like having another argument. For a while there was just silence on the other end, I knew he was probably playing a video game. I let it slide for a while. Then I sighed.

"Well, are we gonna talk? Or just kinda sit here?" I asked, feeling dejected.

"Actually, I have to go."

'Of course you do' I thought. But out loud all I said was "ok, call later if you can."

"Bye, I love you." he said.

"...bye"

Click.

I sighed, and hung up the phone, walking up the stairs. I closed the door to my room, and fell onto my bed. i was finding it harder and harder to say I love you to him, I realized, burying my face in the pillow.

We had been going out since January, and in general, he was a wonderful boyfriend. He was kind, and caring, and sweet. For the most part. Then other times he could be mean, or just plain ignorant. I frowned. 'Why was I thinking like this?' I asked myself.

I rolled onto my back, and stared at the ceiling. More often than not, I was thinking about my boyfriend like that. Ever since may, most of our relationship had gone sour. We had been doing just fine, up until he made a comment about smokers.

I thought back to the event, and closed my eyes, feeling the stinging sensation you get right before you cry. We were just walking out of the movie theater, after seeing star wars. And we walked out into the parking lot, a guy in front of us was smoking.

Jake started talking loudly of how rude it was to smoke in front of people, and how gross it was.

"Stop Jake, hell hear you." I warned.

"I don't care. Its not my fault he's gunna end up on his death bed at 54."

And that was it.

That one sentence opened my eyes to realize just how judgmental my boyfriend really was. Not only did it hurt personally, since my father, mother, and my nana still smoked, but I doubted that he once thought about the fact that the man could've had a family that cared for him, that he wasn't just some random guy with no life.

After that, I started to notice the comments more often, Jake would voice his opinion, making prejudice remarks on religions, and races. And I would always contradict. That would lead to more fights, and those fights would lead to bigger ones, about other subjects. Of things from the past, that we would push aside, only to be dug up in these arguments. It was getting ridiculous.

I groaned, and sat up, brushing my fingers through my hair in frustration. Though we fought constantly, everyone saw us as the 'perfect couple.'

"If we're so perfect, then why don't I feel happy anymore?" I whispered, a stray tear falling down my cheek.

Silence was my answer.

**READ& REVIEW AND I SHALL LOVE YOU FOREVER!**


End file.
